Wolfish Glory
by littlebeat
Summary: A new world has been opened and the monsters coming through are far from friendly. Reality and insanity are closer than you would ever dare to think, and when the limits of life are tested, evolution always finds a way.


Prologue - A Beginning

The cruel winter air reeked of man.

Betwixt the bricks of New York City, sheltered by the shadows and locked in the hidden pathway between reality and the void of insanity, the predator stalked. Above him the clouds roared and the sky flashed brightly for the faintest flickering seconds before he growled and the lightening recoiled with the faintest of whimpers.

A smirk played on brazen lips and pulled them back to reveal canines dripping red beneath. Everything cowered before him. He would have it no other way.

Stalking the city of man was easier than he had first thought. The gaping wound in his side had troubled him upon his arrival, dripping and dragging his stained fur downwards to scrape against the splotched alley, but now he dismissed it. With the city so full of fresh meet he wouldn't be waiting long for his next meal and recovery would soon follow it.

Dark steel wolf ears flicked outwards and he lowered himself to the ground. Amber eyes glowed beneath the requiem of shadows and seemed almost ghostly yellow in the abundant darkness. Cozied between the dustbins on his right, he barred his teeth, rested his chin to the ground beside his paws, and listened. His heartbeat slowed to a stalking thrum and his jaws tensed and clenched as the blood continued to trickle between them.

…

There it was again. That sound. The sound too faint for a human to hear but perfectly competent for him. It chafed like the soft slice of metal grating against hardwood before it was interrupted by the ever-distant clink of chains. They banged against each other, and he counted… ... ...

Three beats per clink. His prey was wary.

If wolves of his calibre could smile he surely would have done. His blood pumped and his heated breath gushed out wafts of warm air as he sneaked forwards and stayed lumbered to the ground. His aching side scratched the wall and left a trail behind him, but he would push that off on the man he had left lifeless with a ripped throat back at the alley entrance. For now his concentration was focused on the clink and the sound of shuffling steel.

The lamplight behind him flickered and died completely, leaving the world in an ashen image as the thunder grumbled above. He slowed his rapid breaths and lowered himself further to the floor, sneaking his way past the metal trail of trash. Amber eyes glowed like half-eaten charcoals in the dark, turning the world into a contrast of grey on black. Perfect for him; death for his prey.

Soft boots cracked against broken glass. His prey flinched.

He knew he had been heard.

The clink between the chains was faster now, the pace quickened and lively, and, although he could not see it, the predator knew he had his prey distressed. Troubled. Panicked. Exactly how he liked them.

Slinking around the back, he watched the man make his way further into the alley. Although he turned, the feverish grunts of his stress leaving small white frosty pants in the air, he failed to see the danger that encircled him. The chain dangled in the bulbous man's left hand, clinking again. The snarl ripped across the predator's face silently. His hatred stemmed from chains.

In the prey's other hand was the source of the noise only he could hear; the sound of the scraping metal knife knocking ever so gently against the wooden bat tucked in the man's belt. The sweaty grip about the weapons tightened.

"Show yourself, brute! I'm gonna skin your hide and hang it on my bastard wal-_ERK!"_

Ragged fangs tore into the back of the man's flesh. Collar and shirt and metal dog-tag necklaces were ripped with it. The impact sent them crashing forwards were the wolf continued to rag back and forth with violent, senseless enthusiasm. The flesh came loose, the tendon ripped and the bones snapped, and then it was over and his paws were trailing red prints through the discarded trash.

He spat the flesh out.

Human meat was too rich. The blood was filled with sugar and the texture was grainy and dry despite the many lapping juices that felt like too much syrup. He cringed and sat beside his work, looking down. His fur was already stained red, what harm could a little more do?

Sirens raged in the distance and the glare of the street lamp returning burned into his eyes. He flicked his ears upwards and tilted his head to the side. He was smiling, if a wolf of his species and form could do such a thing. Above him the thunder and lightning finally gained the courage to spill the black rain.

The footprints were washed away, the blood clogging the drain as it ran idly past like pink dye and dwindled down into the manhole close by. Within moments he was drenched to his core and his smile was gone. The bodies were stale, the meat too soggy and cold to savour, and the sirens were bringing themselves closer through the winter night. Shaking his fur out, he stood and his eyes flickered over the alley once more.

Standing as tall as the average human male, climbing the wall at the opposite end of the backstreet could have been easy. But he was wounded, and he didn't much fancy a chase through the rain by amateurs. Not tonight. Going forwards onto the gloomy streets of New York wasn't much of an option either, not with him currently being too weak to endure the prospect of more hunters. He looked up to the light that dulled out through the blinds high up on his right. The fire escape was an easy option. He could climb up, make his way inside and settle himself for the night. If trouble found him he would kill it, and any witnesses that dared to harbour a grudge against him, and through it he could perhaps recover long enough to move on through the cursed city.

One thing was for certain, he had to move out of the rain fast. His sense of smell was deteriorating with the wet wind, and he couldn't smell the strong trail of man anymore. He was vulnerable now. The sirens were almost upon him and the wound in his side had opened up afresh.

Pulling himself to all fours, he stepped over the broken body with the chains as he made his way over to the fire escape. Jumping up and onto a nearby dumpster, he continued his way up the nitty-gritty steel stairs.

One lazily dragged red paw print at a time.


End file.
